Meanwhile in Mirkwood
by Elf With Redbull
Summary: Everyone knows whats going on with the Fellowship during The Two Towers and Return of the King, but there is a mentioned "siege" of Mirkwood and Lorien via Dul Guldor. They were able to defeat the orcs, but at what costs? LOTS of OCs, battle scenes and orcs. EPILOGUE UP! Takes place about a month later.
1. The Beginning (respectively)

Meanwhile in Mirkwood

Disclaimer: This is a disclaimer. I wish I owned these guys. Some would be at my house...with me...evil laugh...

[This is my second story I've ever attempted and am not sure how it will turn out. The length will depened on the interest level of it and just how it turns out. Also over half of the main characters are mine.]

Warning: Although Celldan and Tauriel are a couple for the sake of the plot, this story is by no means a romance. Also sorry to you guys, but Legolas will not appear in the story until possibly the very end, however he is mentioned.

**The Characters:**

Thranduil: You all know who he is.

Kelsil: Legolas' sister, crowned Princess, and one of the four Captains of Mirkwood. Also one of Mirkwood's sword-smiths.

Brinduíl: One of the two of Thranduil's advisors and the highest ranking Captain of Mirkwood.

Celldan: Third Captain of Mirkwood. The guy Tauriel's married to.

Finril: The fourth (and last) of my Captains. One of Legolas' "besties" and Mirkwood's pyromaniac (no seriously. He's sane and take him as a serious character.).

Trénal: Thranduil's other advisor.

Tauriel: Marchwarden of Mirkwood. Wife of Celldan.

**Mirkwood's Military Ranks:**

King (if in military/guard whatever)

Marchwarden(s)

Captains

Lieutenants

Corporals(if military has great enough numbers, which it doesn't)

Everybody Else

* * *

It had been seven months since Thranduil received the letter telling of his sons's and the Fellowship's practically suicidal quest to destroy the Ring of Power. In those seven months, Mirkwood had fallen further into Shadow and the borders pushed back significantly, reducing the Woodland Realm to one fourth of its original size.

The most recent of the (now frequent) goblin and orc attacks was on the south-eastern border and had killed 11 elves and injured 17 of the remaining 24 elves in Celldan's patrol, himself included.

That particular incident was the topic of discussion in the meeting that was currently being held in the Palace's Throne Room between Thranduil, Kelsil, Celldan, and Trénal.

"Which direction did they attack you from?" Thranduil asked Celldan already 98% sure that the answer would be from Dul Guldor.

"They approached from the south, then surrounded us just out of our hearing range and closed in. We only noticed about 30 seconds before the attack," replied Celldan predictably.

"Their behavior sounds very, how should I put this, un-orclike," stated Thranduil's head advisor, Trénal

"I agree, but they have been acting like that more and more, lately," imputed Thranduil, who was strapping his quiver onto his back in preparation to lead his patrol in place of Celldan's for obvious reasons. "It must be part of the force driving them."

"That is the conclusion I came to," said Kelsil, agreeing with her father. "Did they appear to have any kind of attack strategy?"

Of course the response was no, other than the being surrounded part.

"Is there any way that we can reduce the north patrol and add more to the southern?" Trénal asked Thranduil in an attempt to help.

"No, the north patrol is too few already and reducing it further would make us very vulnerable to an attack," replied the Elven King, now warrior, to the scholar as he picked up his longbow and began to walk out to the courtyard/garden/muster field to join his patrol. "We also can't increase the number of elves in each patrol and risk them not getting enough rest inbetween."

"Can we request help from Lothlorien or Imladris?"

Yet again Thranduil's answer was no. "We can not ask for help from Lorien. They are having the same problem too. The mountain pass is too dangerous to send for help form Imadris. Unfortunately, we are on our own."

Trénal tried to think of another solution but came up empty handed.

Thanduil turned around and began walking towards the door but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder that belonged to Celldan.

"Are you sure you want to go out? I capable of leading them."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow giving him that "you're-a-total-idiot-I-can't-believe-you-just-sai d-that" look.

"You still have a poisoned arrow wound and THREE broken ribs. No way in Arda."

"No, really! It's not that bad!"

Thranduil turned around and continued walking, but none of them missed him say, "You're worse than Legolas."

* * *

Thranduil walked into the courtyard/garden/muster field, weapons in hand. Normally this would have earned him shocked and disapproving looks, but now it was becoming normal thing and nobody turned an eye.

He briefly informed his patrol-which most of the warriors he knew and were friends-of their mission (killing orcs and goblins and protecting the shrinking length of border) and why they were doing it (because Celldan's patrol was ambushed).

The warriors said their (hopefully not last) goodbyes to their familys and Thranduil led the 34 other warriors out of the southern gate to flank Finril's south patrol on the eastern side with Tauriel on the west.

* * *

In the throne room Celldan let out a groan. "You know Kelsil, your Adar can be more stubborn than you and your brother combined?"

Kelsil snickered, which was a rare thing in itself these days. "Speak for yourself- you got back with your patrol half-dead four days ago and just was let out of the Healing Halls yesterday."

Trénal watched in amusement, hoping not to become involved. That quickly became hopeless when he was asked by Celldan, if going out on patrol was dutiful or plain stupid.

His response? "Both. Now go make yourselves useful. Wait. Celldan, forget that I said that and go rest. Kelsil actually has a point this time."

"But I'm not ti-"

"Go rest."

Celldan walked to his chambers defeated, while a smug Kelsil walked in the direction of the forges.

* * *

Northern Border:

Brinduíl and his thinly spread partrol of 35 were locked in a short, but fierce battle against a small brigade of 50 or so orcs along the 7 league streach of northern border they were ment to guard. There were only about 5 orcs left and thankfully no casualties.

Brinduíl engaged in combat with one of the five remaining and parried a sloppy, but strong hit that was aimed at his chest, from the orc's scimitar, with one of his twin knives (his preferred weapon). Before the orc could calculate (or whatever an orc does instead) his next move, Brinduíl crouched, spun around behind the orc, jumped up and slit its throat. It was a move he ahead long since perfected.

With that, the remaining four orcs were easily slew. Brinduíl quickly surveyed the battle (or more like a minor scuffle-field now days) field, and noted with relief that there were still no casualties.

"How many wounded?" he shouted requesting reports from his three immediate subordinates.

"Raineäl: three, nothing serious."

"Vélan: two, just cuts, no poison." Replied his second-in-command and the only elleth in the patrol replied.

Närel sighed. "Närel: four minor, one serious." Answered the young (as it goes for elves) Lieutenant whos section was hit the hardest.

The "healer" (A.K.A warrior who had more than basic healer training) walked over to where Närel was holding an uncontious elf. Närel let out another sigh, and clearly blamed himself for what happend to the elf he was holding.

A few minutes later the "healer" (warrior) looked up after dressing and stitching the wounded elf's temple and arm and pronounced that "He will be fine," 'in a couple weeks' he added to himself; then went to help with the other 'beat up' elves.

Brinduil then gave the 'official' after-battle orders. "We will pile and burn the bodies then make camp at the small post about half a league from here. Vélan, go with your party to inform the seven others. We will arrive shortly before sunset."

Brinduil went over to Närel and the still uncontious elf. He talked to him quietly, as if he didn't want to embarrass the young Lieutenant. "This isn't your fault. Even though there weren't many of them, they hit hard, and your section hardest. There was nothing you could do to stop it. You should rather be happy for saving his life, then brooding because he was injured." Närel smiled and looked up at him.

"Thank you," was the only response he had for the kind words of his captain.

Brinduil got up and then requested for Raineäl and two other elves to help him burn the bodies.

* * *

At the Forges:

*Clang*

*CLANG*

*Swears*

*CLANG*

***CLANG***

The young apprentice couldn't take it anymore. He let out a frustrated scream and a string of curses directed at none other than the half-forged sword. It was at that moment that Kelsil walked into the (spacious and extremely well ventilated, underground) room.

She walked over to the young apprentice and ask what the problem seemed to be.

The frustrated (understatement) elf replied with a garbled answer, "Milady, the STUPID sword won't work! I've been trying to shape it for 5 hours, but it looks more of a weapon that an orc would use, not one of the warriors!"

Kelsil walked over to the forge and began to reach into it. The apprentice watched with a frightened expression, but knew better than to point out the fact that forges were hot.

Kelsil took her hand out of the forge, turned around, and raised an eyebrow. "Fire's cold." she simply stated and turned to walk over to one of the five other forges, that already had a fire started. Kelsil stopped walking and turned around. "Don't call me 'milady' again. Ever."

The younger elf stuttered. "Oh, umm. I won't, umm, milord?"

Kelsil sighed, turned around and went to the forge. 'He's hopeless' she thought as she picked up a mangled chest plate and laid it on the anvil. Kelsil crossed the room picked up several small logs to further heat the fire. She then lobbed two of them into the forge and dropped the others next to the anvil.

While the fire heated, Kelsil went to get a mallet and tongs and whipped up her jet-black hair into a sloppy, but effective, ponytail and tied it with a strip of leather.

When the fire was hot enough, Kelsil began the long process of heating, hitting, and shaping the chest plate back into its original condition.

* * *

[Did any of you like it? I'm shooting got 20k words, but that depends on you guys. Also how were my OCs? Did you like them? Not updating until I get some feedback.

-Vassi]


	2. The Warning Shot

Chapter 2: The Warning Shot

* * *

South-West Patrol:

Tauriel blinked to stay awake. She had volunteered for watch-duty constantly and hadn't slept for almost two weeks. Being the march warden and therefore the leader of the patrol, she had volunteered herself the first four nights watch, letting the other warriors get some well needed sleep. Unfortunately, since the number of orc attacks had skyrocketed, there were four others keeping watch in the trees with her, rather than just one. Normally four nights without sleep for an elf was no biggie, but it was the following week that did her in.

It started with a strange feeling just an hour before sunrise. She knew what it was, but hoped and searched for another possibility. It was Celldan's feeling, not hers. He was in trouble. She could feel it through her bond with him. It had began to fade in the last couple days, and was now barely noticeable. That was the problem. She didn't know if it was a good or bad thing-it was either better, or a whole lot worse. She wouldn't or rather, couldn't rest until she knew the answer.

Tauriel blinked again and began to tap a random rhythm on her leg to pass the time. She had a lot of things, but patience was not one of them. Of all things that she wished to have, the there were none she could have. She wanted to see Celldan again. She wanted to sleep. But above all, she just wanted something to do. But all her arrows were fletched, all swords and knives were sharpened, all of her surroundings memorized, Valar, all the stars were probably counted too.

Tauriel was finally rewarded with the sun beginning to rise. 'Yes, finally' she thought as she jumped down from the tree that she was concealed in. '15 nights down, six to go. Just six more nights until Kelsil's patrol will come and replace ours.'

The four other warriors jumped down and followed Tauriel the quarter mile back to the main camp. The two daytime guards/lookouts were just heading out to keep watch during the "meal". This also wasn't a general practice, but with the recent orc attacks, they were necessary.

They were greeted at the camp with a welcome sight. Two deer and a campfire. Turns out this "meal" was going to be a meal. 'Thank Eru, no lembas bread.'

The serenity of the scene of a fire and sizzling deer was broken with a sound. Tauriel looked up.

"TAURIEL!" she then realized that one of the warriors was calling her name.

"Huh?"

"This is the third time I've called your name." the warrior said.

"And?" Tauriel replied raising an eyebrow, looking much like Thranduil.

"You're drooling."

Tauriel frowned. Then she realized that she actually WAS drooling. She hastily wiped her mouth on her shirt. She turned back to the warrior who informed her. As she did, her mouth formed into a large smile.

"What?" the warrior asked perplexed.

Tauriel's smile broadened. "You're drooling too." The warrior blushed and wiped his mouth.

Shortly after, the lembas-free breakfast was served. It was short, but sweet (not to mention welcome).

They sat around the fire in a comfortable silence. One of the warriors stood up.

"Well, what now?" he asked.

Suddenly they heard a shout, followed by the clang of metal.

"YRCH!" one of the lookouts yelled.

The warrior answered his own question, "Well I guess that answers that."

* * *

Southern Patrol:

"Gear up! We're moving out," was Finril's announcement/orders as soon as the sun began to rise. "Sorry, it's lembas-on-the-go guys...and Laélian."

Laélian shot him a funny look, which was returned to her with a "well-do-you-have-anything-better-to-say?" one, complete with raised eyebrows and a shrug.

None of the patrol had slept very easily that night, if they slept at all, due to the telltale signs of orcs that we're much too close to the borders than too liking.

The tracks had been made about two hours before the elves discovered them and were headed west. Although their numbers detailed that they weren't much more than a scouting party, they had traveled with stealth (Orc-stealth, not elf-stealth) and had five wargs in their company.

Finril doubted that the party posed much of a threat to the South-West Patrol, especially since it was led by their Marchwarden.

'Speaking of Tauriel, I wonder how they are doing. There have been an increase of attacks in that area. Wait a minute, who is even on the east side? I don't remember who left. Either Celldan or Brinduíl-oh well. I'll figure it out soon enough.'

Finril strapped his pack onto his back and sheathed his sword. Picking up the lembas bread that he was planning to eat for a breakfast, he surveyed the packing progress. All but a few of the warriors had finished and were ready to leave.

"Yo." Finril didn't need to turn around to know that his friend Mïren walking towards him. He knew the sound of his voice, even if the elf hadn't spoken the telltale greeting.

"What's it?"

"Everyone's ready."

"Good." the excitement in the words couldn't be good. "Let's move!" Finril commanded the patrol.

Most of the elves ate as they walked, but still were aware of their surroundings. Some even ventured far enough to crack some jokes or fool around. Finril and Mïren were a prime example of the latter. Finril broke off a piece of his lembas and tossed it in the air towards Mïrel, who caught it in his mouth. It was an old habit that remained since the elfling days, after nobody had been successful to break them of it. They repeated the process several more times until Mïrel tossed one to Finril, but Finril paused mid-stride and the bread bounced off of his nose and landed in the ground.

"We've got company," was the only words needed, and everyone drew their weapons (some shoving the rest of their food into their mouths).

* * *

South-Eastern Patrol:

"We halt here." Those were the orders given to the patrol led by Thranduil. They had reached the place where the ambush had taken place a week before. The patrol then back-tracked and set up camp a quarter mile upwind of the decaying orc corpses. Thranduil and three volunteers left the camp in the charge the lieutenants and went to preform the messy job of burning the half-decayed corpses.

-(~)-

Thranduil dropped the last of the corpses onto the hastily constructed pyre and wiped his hands off on his already dirty (understatement) leggings. 'That is not a thing I want to do again.' thought Thranduil and guessed that the others were probably thinking the same.

One of the volunteer body-burners produced some flint and steel, struck them together and lit a good-sized branch on fire. Once it was nearly entirely engulfed in flames, he chucked it into the pile of bodies.

The four watched the pile go up in flames with satisfaction, and turned and head back to their camp.

* * *

South-West Patrol:

The clang of metal on metal was the only thing that could be heard on the clear morning. The party of orcs had found the patrol and managed to sneak up, with more than the stealth that an orc could manage. That was the thing, these weren't just orcs, they were Uruk-Hai. To make matters worse, they also had four warg riders.

The breakfast had had ended rather abruptly, with the call from one of the lookouts. The patrol was quick to answer, for they were always prepared for this kind of thing and kept their weapons VERY close at hand.

Tauriel grabbed her bow that she had lain down on the ground next to her and started sprinting towards the place the lookouts had called from. Tauriel crested the small ridge and the sight wasn't pretty.

The two lookouts had been surprised by the uncharacteristic day-time attack from the Uruk-Hai. They were half men and half orc, and some stood taller than the elves.

The lookouts were now fighting back-to-back, swords clashing with scimitars. It was a loosing battle. One of the orcs had just slipped past their defenses, and stabbed one of the elves in the shoulder. The elf grunted, but went back to fighting without noticing that the rest of the patrol had arrived.

Tauriel commanded most of the patrol to attack while the others she left as archers with one of the lieutenants.

Tauriel gave the order, and they charged down the small hill, towards the fight.

They reached the orcs just after the archers had been cleared to fire the first volley, killing about ten orcs and two of the wargs. Tauriel drew her knives and launched into the battle.

The orcs began to turned away from the original lookouts to face the new threat. Once the first orc was in range of Tauriel's deadly blades, it was promptly relieved of its head. The rest of the orcs raised their weapons, let out an angered shout and charged at the new elves, the original ones completely forgotten.

Tauriel knocked a stunned orc's scimitar out of its claws and stabbed it in the heart. She kicked the body to the ground and whirled around to block an attack with one of her blades, the twin going strait into the orc's eye. The orc fell dead and Tauriel turned to face another of her foes.

She turned and saw two rather large orcs charging at her, scimitars raised. She lashed put with a kick to the one on the right, knocking it down and elbowing the other in the temple. Tauriel killed the second one before it could recover and went to face the first orc that had gotten up off the ground.

The orc yet again raised his scimitar and delivered a hard blow, but it was blocked by Tauriel, who was knocked to the ground. The orc closed in for the kill, but one of the archers took care of the problem and the orc was no longer a threat (AKA he's dead.).

Tauriel got up, retrieved her knife and killed a few more orcs before she saw that the battles was coming to a close. Only two terrified orcs and an angry warg remained. She grabbed a smaller throwing knife out of her boot and threw it at one of the orcs. It hit home and the orc collapsed with a knife in its chest. The archers quickly disposed of the warg and remaining orc.

Tauriel slowly turned around and surveyed the battle field. 'Well looks like we mostly got out unscathed.' She sheathed her knives and put her hands on her hips. She frowned and drew her hand away and was surprised to same it covered in a red metallic substance. 'Well, relatively unscathed.'

* * *

[Sorry about that and not getting back to Finril, but that will be in my next chapter. Am going to update tomorrow and well, next chapter is where the real fun will begin. Also, I only proof-read this chapter once, so sorry about the errors.]


	3. Spreading the Word

Sending the Word

[Aaah. The long awaited update has arrived. Not you'll get to see what happened to Tauriel and Finril and if they're having any fun yet.

I'm so sorry, but it's taking longer than expected to get to the good part. Possibly another update later today.]

* * *

Southern Patrol:

"We're got company. Take to the trees," those were Finril's orders. He had sensed something and they knew it. He could sense the presence of others before *almost* any other elf. Some credited this to the Valar, and some thought that he was paranoid, but most (including himself) thought it was just because he spent too much time with Legolas.

About a minute later, one of the warriors asked Finril, "Are you sure something is here? We've been wai-"

One of the warriors hiding in the same tree as the one who asked the question had climbed over to where he was, put a hand over his mouth and slapped him on the back of the head [NCIS Gibbs-Slap XD].

"Shutup, can't you hear them?" he whispered.

The elf who asked the original question turned to glare at the other warrior (more for the slap than anything else). His face became a mask of concentration.

"Oh," simply was his response as he finally heard the loud sound of orcs trampling through the forest.

The second warrior gave him a "ya think" look. Just then the orcs came into view.

Everyone could hear one of the orcs whine to the orc who appeared to be in charge, "Those stinkin' elves aren't here, we should turn back. I'm tired."

The leader orc replied,"No stoppin' til we find 'em. You know what master says. No coming' back til we find them and report on their defenses. Then we'll do them just like we're doing with the blondies."

Finril and Mïren shared a look in the trees. Mïren gave a slight nod. They wouldn't attack the orcs now. They couldn't risk injuring any more of the warriors if what they thought was going on was going to go on. Finril held up a hand to signal all of the warriors not to attack.

Some looked at him like he was crazy at first, but then understood what he meant and then gave him a knowing look.

The orc's conversation got louder. One of the orcs who looked like he actually knew what he was doing piped up. "Get quiet, we can't let the elf-filth hear us and risk knowing what were plannin'."

The orc who was leading the party then backhanded the whining one and said (none too quietly), "Shut up idiot. We can't risk the plan being compromised just three days before we put it to use!"

Finril and Mïren shared another look in the trees. 'Three days?! If this is what is going to happen, we have to warn the King and the other patrols!'

The orcs' conversation/yelling match was drawing to a close and it seemed like they were going to turn around and head back the way that they came to see if the patrol was further out than they had been informed to search for.

Their suspicion turned out to be correct and the orcs turned around and left in the direction that they came from.

As soon as the Patrol was out of the orcs' hearing range, they all jumped down from the trees. All of them looked to their captain and some even to Mïrel for what to do.

Finril began by stating the obvious, "Those were orcs and they seem to be going to attack us and Lothlorien, the presumed 'blondies', in three days time. We need to warn the King and the other Patrols."

Everyone nodded.

" So. You, you, you, and you all," Finril said pointing to 12 of the elves, "Go to the South-West Patrol and tell them of our discoveries."

A group of 12 other elves stepped forward. "We will warn the king, and get horses to well the northern patrol," said one of them (not knowing that the king wasn't at the place at the current moment).

The remaining 9 elves (and Finril and Mïrel) then announces that they were going to the South-East patrol (duh, where else) and set out with great speed to warn the others of the discoveries they made.

* * *

South-East Patrol:

It was an hour before sunrise when Thranduil was awakened by the sound of someone approaching his bedroll. His first thought was 'I've already had my watch, you moron' but then realized that the 'moron' would know that and the 'moron' also was one of the guards and had come to wake him up for some reason.

The reason being was the new protocol, that required any suspicious activity to be reported to the leader of the party.

"Thranduil, somebody approaches from the east. They are moving swiftly, not to it trying to conceal their presence," the guard reported.

With that Thranduil was wide awake and wondering who was approaching the patrol. He stood up, grabbed his sword, and followed the guard to the tree where he was keeping watch.

In the time it took to retrieve Thranduil, the mystery approachers' voices had now became audible.

"Hey, hurry up! You're too slow!"

"Shutup, I'm not as slow as you. You don't even have a clue where we're going!"

"Yeah, I do!"

"Shut up! Just shut up! Both of you. We're almost there and last time I checked, we want to tell them our message before we're shot to death!"

Thranduil did a double-take when he heard the voices, but sure enough, they were Finril, Mïren and several other warriors. The thing was: Why in the name of the Valar were they even here?

Thranduil held up his hand and signaled not to shoot and that they weren't a threat. He then jumped down from the trees and went to see what was so urgent that they leave their patrol and with such a large number at that.

A moment later when the approaching patrol saw Thranduil, they immediately picked up their pace and ran to meet him.

"Celldan! Celldan!" Finril yelled but when he was a bout 10 feet away, he skidded to a halt and stated simply, "You're not Celldan."

"No, I'm not," was Thranduil's (who wasn't Celldan) response, "Although there are only three blonde elves in all of Mirkwood, not to mention one is, well, Valar knows where!- I thought that you might be able to tell me and Celldan apart by now."

There was a long moment of silence with only the panting of the newly arrived elves. Everybody spoke at once. "Why are you here?" There was another silence, then a simultaneous, "You go first!"

Finril was the first to speak. He gave a detailed account of the orcs and outlined the plan that they came up with on the hard run there, all within 30 seconds and lending with, "So why are you here?"

"What?!" Thranduil and the guard responded.

"We thought it was a good plan," Finril responded looking slightly disappointed.

"What plan?" asked Thranduil assuming it was something that Finril had told him about.

"Oh!" said Finril looking noticeably happier, "I thought you thought that our plan was insane!"

"It is insane," said Mïrel in a low tone.

"And this plan is...?" A asked Thranduil getting annoyed.

Finril launched back in and gave an equally detailed outline, but slow enough for it to be heard.

"Actually, it's not bad. The plan I mean," corrected Thranduil, "It sounds sane and could work." Thranduil turned to the guard. "Help us wake everybody up. We'll leave immediately."

A few minutes later the awake, but extremely groggy patrol began heading back to the palace.

* * *

South-West Patrol:

Darkness: Dang

Its still dark: Dang

Still d-wait. Ohh, light. Go for it! Owww. This is a bad idea. Go back to dar-NO! Well too late anyways.

"It's about time that you realized that. Open your eyes."

Tauriel grunted and forced her eyes to open. Her vision swam, but she forced her eyes to remain open. "Realize what?" she asked.

Three figures were standing over her. The middle one spoke. "You were talking in your sleep...unconsciousness...whatever. You said that this was a bad idea. We agree."

Tauriel knit her brow, trying to remember what happened. "Oh. That idea. Wait. Something's out there."

"A balrog perhaps?" jested the elf on the left.

"Seriously," she hissed and kicked him in the shin.

The elf winced, but didn't make a sound. The tromping of feet immediately caught their attention. All except Tauriel nocked an arrow into their bow, and turned toward the noise.

Twelve exhausted and panting elves burst through the bushes. All of the South-West Patrol gave them a why-the-heck-are-you-here look. One the elves began to tell the story, others filling in when he left out any minor detail.

Tauriel managed to stand up without causing much pain to side. This was when the new arrivals began to take notice of her.

"What happened to you?" one asked noticing the too-pale-for-an-elf complexion.

She glanced around and found a few other elves who were injured, pointed to them, well, tried pointing to them and winced. She found out he hard way that it was MUCH more comfortable not moving her arm, which caused the long gash down her right side to pull and stretch. Tauriel then successfully pointed to the group and frankly stated, "Same thing that happened to them."

* * *

Mirkwood Palace:

Although he didn't let it show, Trénal was currently the most bored, exasperated, and annoyed elf in all of Middle-Earth. And what was it that Trénal was doing now? He was in a meeting with a delegation from Lake-Town [don't know how exactly it's written] negotiating wine, clothing, and food trade.

Yelling in the hall outside brought his attention.

"MOVE!"

"Hey watch it!"

"I SAID **MOVE**!"

"Woah, why are you even here?"

The shouting became closer. Now, everyone could now hear it and were about to see what the heck was going on, when a crazed looking Laélian followed by 11 other equally crazed looking warriors burst into through the door.

Trénal stood up from his chair (where the not present king would normally be), straightened his tunic, and looked at the new party.

One of the warriors near the back said, "We made it!"

"Ya really think?!" another responded.

"Well, we all thought that we'd make it back tonight, not like at, well, 10ish?" The end of the sentence rose so it sounded more like a question than anything.

"Why are you here?" asked Trénal, sounding much like and annoyed Thranduil.

Laélian was the one who answered. "Orc, attack, yesterday, heard, three more days, warning Thranduil, patrols, fall back, runs too slow."

Another warrior who was better at explaining (includes all, and even most elflings) took over and explained it in an understandable fashion.

"Wait, where's Thranduil?" one of them asked. They all looked expectantly at Trénal.

"The South-East patrol was attacked. He is leading his instead."

"Now what?" asked another warrior.

Trénal, knowing Thranduil for long enough responded, "Now, we wait. Thanduil will send messages to the other two patrols. They will muster all warriors here, then fall back to the first lines of defenses. They-we will not risk frightening openly if the attack is long large as it sounds. I'll send a rider to the North patrol. Now go get some rest and some food," he turned toward the Lake-Town delegation. "It sounds like a good idea for you to leave. Immediately. Warn your people. Things can get messy here."

And messy they got.

* * *

[Next chapter will possibly be out later today, or tomorrow. Sorry again, the fun had to wait.

Also please review so I can see how I'm doing. Also a shutout to horseyyay for being my awesomest reader!]


	4. And So it Begins

And So it Begins

[Title isn't even mine in this chapter. Dang. Also, I personally like reviews. Hint, hint. Well enjoy!]

* * *

South-East Patrol:

They were moving through the forest at a swift jog. The patrol needed to reach the place of Mirkwood ASAP.

With the impending attack on the way, they had to gather the other two of the remaining of the six patrol groups, one of which had absolutely NO clue what the heck was about to go down. They had to muster together and put all of their power into defending their home. They had to figure out how exactly to concentrate their defensive power to ward off the massive attack. They HAD to SUCCEED in doing that.

Do all of that in two days. Just two days. Two days would decide weather their home would be lost or saved.

Thranduil called a halt. They just weren't going to reach the palace in time.

"We are moving too slow. We will never reach the palace in time to collect the others," Thranduil stated. "It's risky doing this, but it's the only way. We shall split up into groups of five. It will allow us to move much faster than in a large one. The first group that should reach the palace will send mounts to the South-Western Patrol. They will never reach in time if they travel on foot. Do the same for the Northern, but the South-West is the priority. Good luck and may the stars of Elbereth shine upon you." Thranduil concluded his speech solemnly.

With that the warriors grouped up and left in two different directions, but still heading to the same place.

The younger warriors stayed on the path so not to risk getting lost. This path was safer, but longer. The older and more experienced warriors took off through the forest. In doing this, they knew that they could make a B-Line towards the palace, but were as good as dead if they took a single wrong turn and could easily be overpowered if they ran into a spider nest or a pack of orcs.

* * *

South-West Patrol:

They had split up into two groups. One with he elves who had been injured during the battle earlier along the 12 elves who had come from the southern patrol as informants (who were perfectly fine) for the sake of common sense, and the others who were capable of moving much faster and still had all of their blood [couldn't resist].

Needless to say, the latter group was already at least a league closer to their destination, the palace, than the second. Both groups had been running and walk/jogging for two hours now, and it was becoming clearer and clearer that they wouldn't reach the palace in time. That is, unless some kind of miracle happened.

However slim that chance was, there still was a chance and they clung to it. That was all that kept them running.

* * *

Mirkwood Palace:

As soon as Kelsil had heard the news of the attack, she had immediately volunteered to ride to the Northern patrol. Other than the fact that she was bored and itching for some action, she felt obligated to do so, being one of the fastest riders present.

She had just about finished brushing down her horse when Celldan ran into the stables. He ran over to his faithful stallion, gave him a once-over, and mounted.

Kelsil looked at him, "Where are you going?"

"Same place as you, hurry up!"

"Huh?"

"Northern border, hurry up, you're taking too long. I ride faster than you anyways."

Kelsil grunted and put a bridle on her mare. She didn't use full tack, but still used reigns, unlike Celldan, who rode true Elven style (FYI bare-back, holding on to conveniently placed manes.).

She jumped up onto her horse and rode out of the stable with Celldan to collect the other 20 horses they were to take up one of the paths to meet and use to transport the northern patrol back to the palace.

They whispered in Elvish to their mounts, and took off at a full gallop with the riderless horses following.

* * *

Mïren, Finril, and Three Other Warriors: Mirkwood Forest:

It was noon and they were only 12 miles south of the Palace. They had been traveling at a dead sprint the entire time, bodies fueled with adrenaline and the urgency of their mission. They finally paused to rest near a stream and get a drink. Thankfully they hadn't run into anything that posed a threat.

"We should be there within the hour," one of the exhausted warriors said.

They took a rest for about five minutes, then resumed at their breakneck pace.

* * *

Thranduil and Party:5 Miles East (of above):

Thranduil and the warriors in his group had decided to taken the shortest route back, although it was not by a long shot, an easy one. The group had swam across two rivers and were standing under a 40 foot [errr 10 meters? Can't do metric. Stupid American measurements.] cliff that they had to scale in order to travel the remaining seven miles to the palace. Time to start climbing.

* * *

Kelsil and Celldan: North Border:

Kelsil and Celldan had just arrived at the North Border and has immediately came across a pile of burnt corpses.

Celldan dismounted and walked over to study the pile. 'This can't be more than five days old' he thought.

Celldan voiced his discovery to Kelsil.

"We should try the small flet-camp. It's about a mile and a half west of here. That's where they might be, especially if there were any injuries," inputed Kelsil after a minute.

Celldan then mounted, but it was lacking his usual grace. 'Stupid ribs.' he thought as they rode towards the camp.

* * *

Mïren, Finril, and Others: Outside Mirkwood Palace:

The 5 warriors stumbled towards the palace, ready to collapse. They had reached their destination.

One of the Elves manning (or elving?) the wall recognized them. "Open the gate!" he yelled.

Despite everything, the warriors picked up the pace. They went through the gate and decided that it was a great time to lay on the ground.

Several concerned elves ran down from the wall to see what was happening. By then had already heard of the plot to attack the realm, and were startled to see five very tired warriors laying on the ground.

As they approached Mïren started talking. "Ya know, the ground is very comfortable here."

If the elf was somebody other than Mïren, Finril, or Legolas, they would have been alarmed and asked if they were in their right minds, but it was normal for those three.

Another warrior took up explaining, "Thranduil says to send horses to the South-West Patrol ASAP. Can I have some water? Oh yeah, same for the North."

One of the elves went to get water, and another to send some horses (some with riders of course). One of the remaining said, "You guys look like you've been chased by a Balrog."

"Actually, we were," replied Finril, unable to resist.

* * *

North Patrol:

It was two o'clock in the afternoon. The patrol would move out tomorrow. Thanks to the Elven Healing Ability, none of the patrol showed any sign of the injuries that they had sported after the battle. They had left the border unguarded for too long.

Brinduíl was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of many approaching horse hooves.

'Oh crap' he thought as he jumped out of the tree. He ran a couple hundred meters away from the camp and hid behind a tree.

Brinduíl waited for the riders come into sight to see if they were friend or foe.

After an eternity (AKA two minutes) the riders came into sight.

"What?" he whispered to himself as he realized that there were only two riders, and 20 horses.

He began to realize that the two riders were elves, and dressed in the same garb as he was wearing now [that just made him sound really slow]. As they drew closer he recognized them as Kelsil and Celldan, two of the other captains. Brinduíl lowered his bow and stepped out from behind the tree.

The riders slowed to a stop, and Kelsil dismounted. She walked up to Brinduíl, tilted her head and studied him.

After a full minute, she announced, "Good, you're here."

"Of course I am! I'm standing right in front of you!"

Kelsil frowned and then nodded. "Mount up! We have to get back to the palace. Immediately."

"Why?" Brinduíl asked.

"We'll explain on the way," Celldan said nudging a horse towards him.

Kelsil and a confused Brinduíl mounted and walked (the horses walked) towards the flet-camp.

"Pack up! We're leaving," Brinduíl announced to the 34 others camped in the trees.

A few of the warriors asked "Where?" and "What?" and "Whoa, what's going on here?", but the packing was quick, because they had already planned to leave the next morning.

Ten minutes later, all the elves were mounted, most riding double because there were only 20 horses and 35 of them, and they began the hour long, but probably more since there were double riders, journey back to the palace.

* * *

Mirkwood Palace: On the Ground:

Finril, Mïren, and the other three warriors were still laying on the ground when Thranduil's party arrived 20 minutes later.

The second group joined the first and Finril informed Thranduil that the 'transportation arrangements' had been taken care of and that Trénal was waiting for him to arrive.

Thranduil picked himself off of the ground and walked into the palace in search of Trénal.

-(~)-

Thranduil found Trénal in the same room that the meeting had occurred in earlier, pacing a hole in the ground.

He knocked twice before he entered, but didn't wait for a response. "You really have to stop that you know." Thranduil commented on the annoying habit of his head advisor.

"SWEET VALAR, IT'S ABOUT TIME!" he shouted in reply.

"Well, sor-ry, was it you who has been running, swimming, and climbing for three hours strait?"

"Point. I need your approval on the defense plan. We will have at the light-defense line traps and caltrops on the ground and archers in the trees so out defenses are more concentrated. If that fails we will fall back to the wall and defend it. If the attack is large enough to overrun those defenses, then we will go to the caves."

"Brilliant. It however lacks some minor details," Thranduil commented on the plan.

Long story short, they had the arriving warriors from the South-East patrol directed to the hall, and they spent the next three hours detailing the 'brilliant' plan.

* * *

South-West Patrol: Head Group:

They knew that they would never reach the palace in time. All of them knew it. Somebody was just waiting for somebody else to say so. Nobody did. Nobody really said anything.

They came to a small spring and stopped to refill their water skins and get a drink. The next place to get water was 10 miles away and the coming section was not an easy one.

The next 10 miles would take them through rocky stream beds, rivers, and a VERY steep path. It was the shortest way.

Several of the elves jerked up and turned toward the north. Horses. Wait, horses? That meant one of three things. 1: Somebody was attacking them. 2: Somebody had sent horses to them (or had gotten loose). 3: Rohan had come to their aid.

The first one was the most likely, but hopefully not the correct one. The third was HIGHLY unlikely because, wait. How would Rohan even GET here from Edoras (or Gondor or Helms Deep or wherever they were). It was halfway across Middle-Earth! However unlikely the second one was, it turned out to be true.

A column of riderless [inspired adventures of Brego and Aragorn] trotted into view and snorted. One of the horses came forward and nudged the nearest speechless warrior's bow down and nuzzled him trying to get him to mount.

"What the heck?" a warrior asked.

Another answered, "I. Don't. Know."

The warriors began walking towards the horses looking slightly dazed. They got on their 'mounts sent by the Valar' and turned back towards the palace.

"Wait!" one suddenly yelled.

The other warriors looked at him. He blushed.

"The other group, we have to get them!"

Realization dawned on them. They HAD completely forgotten the group behind them. All of them turned their mounts around headed in the direction that they had just came from.

-(~)-

It hadn't taken them long to reach the second group with the help their horses. The second group had been moving much slower than the first, but at least they all were walking.

Most of the warriors in the first group dismounted and found a 'riding buddy' due to the lack of enough horses. The second group was looking at the first, stunned.

Finally, Tauriel spoke. "W-where did all the horses come from?"

"We have no idea, but they're horses, and we need them," the leader of the mounted group responded.

Tauriel looked greatfully at the horses, and walked over to a black stallion with a star on his nose. 'Looks like my horse' she thought as she mounted with some difficulty on the second try.

The nudged her horse into a walk and went over to where her friend was standing. She promptly grabbed him and hauled him onto her horse.

He let out a surprised yelp.

She turned around to face the other members of the group that she was with. "What are you waiting for, lets go!"

* * *

Mirkwood Palace:

The last group of warriors from the South-East patrol had just arrived when none other than Kelsil and Celldan thundered up to the palace yelling, "HEY, OPEN THE GATE, YOU MORONS!"

The 'morons' opened the gate and they came tromping in followed by the rest of the group, riding sweaty horses.

Thranduil, Trénal, and Finril came running out of the palace halls. As soon as they were spotted, they were asked, "Hey, what did we miss?"

-(~)-

It was nearly 6 o'clock as the last patrol came to the palace. They were dirty, hungry, and frankly exhausted. The weary travelers dismounted, and their horses were led to the stables.

Tauriel began to walk towards the entrance to the Palace/Caves. She was all but tackled by a flying embrace from Celldan.

She hastily got up on her feet and looked down at him, making sure that he was ok after loosing so much sleep over him. All that was visible was a red mark on his arm, where he had been on the wrong side of an arrow.

Satisfied, she reached down and returned the embrace.

They were finally together.

* * *

Outer Defenses:

The elves had slept at the palace and gotten some much needed rest. It was probably the last that they were going to get in a long time. They then walked the quarter mile to first line of defenses.

When they had arrived, they had immediately started to rig the traps and set the caltrops (made especially for wargs!).

When dusk had arrived, they had finished with the defenses and archers were placed at strategic places on the wall.

The silence of the forest was suddenly broken by the low monotonous sound of an orc horn.

As soon as the orcs ever in sight, which didn't take long, the horn was answered with the equally low, but very whiney screech of an elf horn. Some of the elves went as far as to cover their pointy ears. All were clearly thinking, 'if we survive this, we are absolutely going to have to get new war horns.'

The orcs were clearly surprised that they had made preparations and weren't surprised of their arrival.

This was going to get interesting.

* * *

[Yet again, I have underestimated how long it would take to get to the fun parts (but hey, I promised this chapter). Also I am now begging you to leave a review stating 'go play in traffic'.

Also, why do these chapters keep getting longer, and longer?]


	5. Snipers, Warriors, and More!

Snipers, Warriors, and More!

[Frankly, I feel terrible because I forgot to post on my profile that I was going to the mountains and wasn't updating on Friday.

On another note, this chapter and some of the following might be written differently and be jumping around a lot. So if its terrible...then, well, umm, DEAL WITH IT!]

* * *

Thranduil:

Thranduil looked out from his position on the small, five foot defense wall that he was standing on. He surveyed the soon to be battlefield and inspected the defenses. If they held, the realm would be saved, and Dul Guldor would fall. If they failed, then they would fall. If they fell, then Lorien would fall. If two of the four of the Elven realms fell, the other two wouldn't have much of a chance. Imladris would be discovered in its hidden valley. It was virtually surrounded already and had no means of escape. Cirdan would either be forced to sail or scatter.

If they lost this battle, then the world of elves would fall. Wait. The world of elves was already falling. If the ring wasn't destroyed, then Sauron would surely take over all of Middle-Earth. If it was destroyed, then all of the Three would loose their power. The bearers of Nenya, Narya, and Vilya would sail, and most of their people would follow.

Both of the immanent fates would be the end of the Third Age, the Age of the Elves, but the second was by far, the more desirable. He and some of his people would stay. Their realm wasn't protected by one of the three. Elrond and the elves in Imladris, protected by Vilya would most all leave. Galadriel bearing Nenya, and the elves in Lorien would sail too. Most of Cirdan's people had already left for Valinor when the Darkness began to awaken. He had given the Narya to Mithrandir, the (now) White Wizard.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of an Orc horn. They had arrived. The horn was returned with the *terrible* sound of an elf horn as a huge line of orcs burst through the trees. Some of the orcs were visibly startled [Yep, I guess they DO have emotions.] to see the elves, after all, this was a surprise siege/attack/ambush...thing.

Both of the armies were utterly silent, just staring at each other. Everyone was getting very anxious for the battle to start. The orcs continued to arrive. There were now at least 7 thousand. There were just four hundred elves. Also added into the mix were twenty cave trolls, 30 warg riders, and a battalion of 50 Southrons [Man, that must have been a long trip!]. However, the elves also had their line of traps, caltrops, archers (who were at least 50 times better than the Orc ones), and 10 snipers, armed with ballistas and spears, who were hiding in the trees (Unlike the archers who were on the wall. That's the reason why why Trénal isn't in the guard.).

The Orc had stopped arriving. 'This really doesn't look good' thought Thranduil and assumed that was somewhere along the lines of what everyone else was thinking. 'This is getting really nerve racking' he thought 'Eru, somebody start shooting already!'

* * *

Finril and Mïren:

Finril had conveniently positioned himself next to his friend Mïren in a section of wall that was sure to get some action.

Unlike most of the warriors, they were longing for the battle to start. It was for more than one reason though. First one was that they loved the rush of adrenaline and overall feeling of fighting in a battle, knowing that you could be dead with one misfired arrow or the tiniest slip of the knife. Second was more dutiful; they wanted to defend their home. The third was shared only between them. Well, and Thranduil.

Mirkwood's pyros had cooked up an epic new weapon. It was made up of flint, steel, and a mixture of surfer, charcoal, and potassium nitrate. Frankly, they thought that it was genius. It was about as big as the cup of a wine glass and one was resting in each of their tunics. When thrown, the flint and steel would knock together and create a spark. The spark would then ignite the mixture and the thing would explode in to a ball of flame (no pun intended). In other words, they had created two grenades, and only destroyed one building in the process of doing so.

Finril was getting fidgety. He never was the one who was able to stand still for long periods of time. He thought about shouting insults at the orcs, but that would only scare the living crap out of the other elves who were still busy at the stare-off. An evil grin spread across his face. He turned to Mïren who was almost jumping up and down with excitement.

Mïren turned to him, now sharing the same evil look. They turned back to the orcs, smiled, and both gave them THE finger.

The battle begun.

* * *

Tauriel:

She was pissed. Nothing else describes it. She was PISSED.

Instead of fighting in the battle, she was leading the group of snipers. And it wasn't even her fault. She didn't even know whose fault it was. 'Either Celldan's or the orcs'. No Celldan is just being overprotective. Wait, he was in the same situation as I am in and he is fighting. Still, I guess it was those dang orcs. Stupid orcs.'

Tauriel was sitting in one of the trees about a hundred feet beyond the wall manning one of the ten ballistas (respectively). The long ranged crossbow things had an accurate firing distance of about a thousand feet, but you still could easily nail a troll or something like that from further away.

She noticed that all of the warriors on the wall were having a stare-off with the opposing army. Keyword they WERE having a stare-off. Two elves, probably Finril and Mïren had flipped the orcs, and the battle had quickly begun.

'Just like them, one day they will get themselves killed by being complete idiots.' She loaded a four foot spear into the ballista and drew it back preparing to fire.

She noted that the orcs charged fast and many broke upon the defenses, but within the minute, they were beginning to scale the wall.

Tauriel was one of the few elves who could accurately use a ballista, and was unfortunately (She was more of the hand-to-hand kind of person. There was just something about walking up to an orc and stabbing it in it's pretty little face.), one of the most accurate of shooters.

She homed in on a troll, knowing that the others would be doing the same. Tauriel fired the bolt/spear/oversized arrow and it struck home right in between the troll's eyes. The troll fell and it crushed several orcs killing them. 'One shot, six kills. *Almost* a record.'

The other snipers' bolts hit 5 more trolls, 3 wargs, an important looking orc, and an innocent tree.

Tauriel shook her head and smiled. She knew who hit the tree. It was Jaenen, probably the youngest elf fighting now. He was only 52 and had only been allowed to join the guard two years ago. He actually was very good, but his first shot was always terrible.

She quickly reloaded and this time aimed at a warg who was aiming to launch itself at Brinduíl. He was a seasoned warrior, but was rather preoccupied killing several orcs at once who had scaled a small ladder that they had brought (knowing about the small wall) AND pushing the ladder down at the same time. Her aim was true again and the warg was dead.

She reloaded again with one of her remaining 28 projectiles and searched for another target.

* * *

Brinduíl:

Brinduíl's section of the wall was receiving a lot of action due to lack of defenses. Most were concentrated on the head amount of the wall, and the unintelligent (ok, they were stupid) orcs had just finally began to realize that there were traps and it was best not to go into them after a good number has already "tested" them...and failed. They were beginning to move to the edges of the wall and were raising up small ladders attempting to breech.

He was currently trying to kill four at once and knocking down the ladder, so more couldn't scale the wall. He had just killed the second one and noticed a grayish streak at the edge of his vision. He turned and saw a warg launching itself at him. He was about to disengage in the orcs and kill the warg, when it fell with a four foot spear sticking out of its chest. 'Never mind, just kill the orcs.' He thought to himself and smiled. He was becoming too much like Finril.

The Captain suavely spun and decapitated one orc and shoved the other off the wall and saw it become impaled onto a spike. He then kicked the ladder knocking off the orcs and then kicked it again managing to knock it backwards off the wall. 'Quality counts my friends, get better ladders.'

* * *

Kelsil:

Kelsil was having fun. She was in fact, having a great time. 'Well who shouldn't be able to have fun while partaking in their favorite hobby?' Killing orcs became basically her favorite pastimes since her mother had been killed by them when she and Legolas had just been elflings.

Like Finril and Mïren, she was one of the masters of overkill. If she had more time, most of her orcs would be found decapitated with a stab wound in the heart, about two arrows imbedded in its torso, at least one punctured lung, and would be rather crispy after being splashed with oil and lit on fire. The head was normally found about twenty feet away and had another arrow sticking out of its eye.

Now she was going for quick and efficient kills, having made a secret bet with her (and more so Legolas') friends on who was getting the most kills. 'Step right up, step right up! Who wants the next fatal stab wound?!' she thought as she gave the promised kills.

"Behind you!" somebody called out to her.

She whirled and saw that an orc had come up a newly raised ladder and was trying to kill her.

"Ah, another costumer!" Tauriel exclaimed as she kicked it in the groin and slashed its throat open.

Some of the nearby elves spared her a look saying "have-you-totally-lost-what-little-

common-sense-you-still-have-left?"

Tauriel returned the same look and resumed her deadly dance. She faced the three new "customers" that had came up the ladder when she was killing the other. Her right knife moved in an upwards arc and deflected one of the orcs scimitars while her other elbow slammed into another one's shoulder knocking it off balance. She continued on with the motion to stab the third through the heart. She then spun and kicked the already off-balance second orc and sent it careening into a orc-who-had-just-joined-the-fun's scimitar having it miscalculate and kill its "buddy". By then, the first orc was moving in for another strike and she blocked its blow again, but this time stabbed it thought the chest.

'I was right, this IS the most fun I had in a while' she thought as she plowed into the fourth, shoving it off the wall.

* * *

Celldan:

'Maybe I was a little too harsh with Tauriel' Celldan thought guiltily as he decapitated another orc with his sword. 'She must be killing herself, not getting any real action back there. Me actually fighting defiantly isn't helping. Well, on the other hand, I won't be worrying...as much.'

Another unfortunate victim charged at him and ended up getting shis-ke-babed on his blade. Celldan moved forward to knock down a ladder when there was finally a lull in the action.

None of his injuries had yet to hinder him in any way but he still was being careful. He stepped back and flipped his sword in a figure-8 motion awaiting another orc.

"Huh, it WAS a little off balance," he murmured to himself as he remembered Kelsil doing the same and remarked that it was off balence. She had reshapen it when they first got back to the palace a day or two ago. 'Maybe I really should listen to her more often.'

He swung his newly reshaped sword and slit another orc's throat and then hacked another one's head off.

'It seems lighter and maybe a little more swanky.'

* * *

[Next update coming tomorrow! Still, I feel bad about before. Yeah. Bye.]


	6. Murphy's Law

Murphy's Law

[Well, TOLD YA HAHA! I updated again!

Also I really should have added Mïren to the character list, but I wasn't expecting him to become as charactery as the others, buy HEY!]

* * *

Mïren:

Ever since the battle had begun, Mïren had been longing to lob the explosive at the offending army and blast some to Harad and back...twice. But unfortunately, he knew that he had to save it for later, when it really counted.

But Mïren, as always, had other fun weapons. He was heavily armed. He had his bow (of course), his two long knives, two daggers in his wrist guards, 7 throwing knives in his belt, another dagger an his boot, and a small knife hidden in his tunic. As mentioned before: overkill. He had almost decided to bring a small pike, but decided that it would be more of a hindrance to movement and his aim was better with a bow anyways. He had for obvious reasons, decided that a lance and a mace was a bad idea. HE didn't know why the heck he even had a mace.

He currently had discarded his bow for his knives and was spinning, slashing, parrying, stabbing, hacking, blocking, and kicking with deadly accuracy and grace.

Several of the orcish archers (who were terrible shots) had (finally) begun to well, start shooting. A volley of arrows hit several elves and sent some falling on either side off of the wall. Both the elves and orcs wondered why they haven't thought of this sooner, but had different feelings accompanying that thought.

The archers fired another volley and this time one of the arrows wizzed past his ear frankly scaring the crap out of him. The offending arrow had lodged itself into one of the trees where the Scorpions were concealed and was quivering with the impact.

Mïren turned back to his fighting and saw that two more ladders had been raised. He decapitated an orc then ran over to the ladder to knock it over, shoving an orc to the ground in the process. Mïren grabbed the ladder's supports and shoved it off the wall with enough force to send it and two orcs crashing to the ground, Finril doing the same to the other.

The archers had fired a third volley and this time were more accurate in hitting their targets. About twenty of the defenders fell over the wall with arrows sticking out of them. One of the elves behind him grunted as he was hit in the shoulder, but snapped off the shaft and kept fighting.

* * *

Thranduil:

The defenses were not holding for as long as he expected. The orcs had been too many to stop and were now beginning to overwhelm the warriors on the small wall. They had attacked quickly and the traps had quickly filled up with their bodies and were now ineffective. The archers on the wall were not as much help due to the fact that their enemy as basically on top of them and were too close to shoot, but the Scorpions hidden in the trees were very efficient and had taken out most of the trolls and all but a couple wargs. They would have to go to the higher wall encircling the city soon, or they would be overwhelmed.

He relieved another orc of his head and kick another to the ground hoping it would fall and break its neck.

Yes, the defenses were becoming overrun and they needed to retreat. It was becoming too dangerous. If they waited too long they wouldn't be able to fall back. They next volley of arrows only confirmed that decision.

A low vilocity arrow struck Thranduil in the arm, but was deflected by the lightweight armour he was wearing and didn't do any damage.

With a glance at Brínduil, he shouted, "Fall back! Fall back to the wall! Quickly!"

* * *

Tauriel:

Tauriel heard the order to fall back but, still all of the scorpions stayed a little longer to fire a last bolt.

"Pack up! Lets go!" was her order as she picked up her spears that were resting in an oversized quiver thingie used to carry them.

The others did the same, and she climbed over to help Jaenen unstring the ballista so that the enemy couldn't use it [you really expected them to disassemble and carry their ballistas? How cruel!]. The ten snipers jumped down from their trees and joined the retreat with the others.

* * *

Finril:

The orders to fall back cut through the battle clearly. They were heard by thrives the sound of metal clanging and clashing and the yells and battle cries of both the elves orcs and men.

Firnil turned and shouted to the troops that he had command over and repeated the command (although everyone had already heard it), but added an "I'll cover you" at the end.

"We'll," added Mïren for once being serious and somewhat concerned.

The elves had no trouble jumping down from the small wall and they headed for the larger one 400 meters back.

Finril and Mïren spotted the other warriors under their (well Finril's) command until they were all at least three quarters of the way there before they completely disengaged in the enemy and the attempt to hold their position, knowing that all of the other captains (and king) were doing the same.

It was finally became the time to take to the trees and get their own butts out of there. They all spared each other a glance and unanimously decided that it was indeed, now or never.

The remaining elves leapt from the wall onto the ground, then proceeded to scale some convenient trees then resume running through them to the higher wall.

-(~)-

As soon as the remaining six elves had left the wall, the orcs wasted no time climbing and breaching it.

The orcs raised several more short ladders and the remaining five thousand orcs, 21 Southrons, and cave troll scaled (or plowed through) the wall and promptly began running after the fleeing elves, some carrying tall ladders and others carrying lit torches and wood.

The orcs charges on trying to "reclaim what was theirs" and more so please their master.

-(~)-

The six fleeing elves made it to the wall (surprisingly) without any problems from the orcs.

Then came the crucial part. The only way for them to get over the wall and to safety was to either A: walk through the gate or B: go over it. Yes, the obvious choice was to walk thought the gate, but they had closed it so the orcs couldn't do just that. The other way was to go over it. Either by ladder or rope-and rope it was.

Their predetermined plan was that they were going to go to a tree that was close to the wall, but big enough for all of them and convenient enough to get to. They would then be thrown a ripe by the elves on the wall and climb up without getting stabbed or shot by the offending orcs. Easy!

They were now at the second part of the plan: getting over the wall. Celldan whistled and six ropes were thrown over into the tree. There were originally only five ropes, for each of the five escapees, but the patrols' mottos were, 'always bring extra rope', well, and 'where there wine, there's fun'.

Each of the eves caught onto a rope looped tilt around their arm and prepared to take the leap.

-(~)-

Kelsil went first. She swung through the air and too the wall. Kelsil neatly planted her feet on the wall and began climbing/walking up the wall and rope. After she was out of the initial impact zone, Brinduíl jumped. He too made it flawlessly and began to climb, but things went downhill from there.

Thranduil was the next to jump. He spun slightly and pushed off the wall with his leg to avoid crashing into it. The second landing attempt was successful and he too began to climb just as made it over the top.

Celldan looked at the landing spot and jumped, but a sudden gust of wind sent him spinning and careening off-course and he hit the wall with his shoulder, then flipped to push off with his legs and then a finally landed on the wall successfully, but about 20 feet off-course. He pushed off again so that he could get back to the intended target and hurried up after Thranduil.

Mïren and Finril were the last ones still in the tree. Being them, they had decided that they were going to jump together. They looked a eachother, and went for it...and failed. Miserably.

First Finril had slipped while jumping off of the branch when he heard a sudden noise. The first of the orcs had finally caught up.

* * *

Kelsil:

Kelsil watched in horror as the first orc had emerged from the trees. Although it was quickly shot down, it meant the other orcs weren't much further behind. The orc had also made Finril slip sightly on the branch that he was launching himself off of when he jumped and that little slip had messed up the perfect balance that was needed and sent him spinning towards the wall. Mïren then turned to see what had happened and was met with a spinning Finril colliding into him and almost causing both of them to let go of the ropes. They both were then spinning towards the wall and unceremoniously crashed into it.

She heard one of them grunt and mutter, "That's gonna leave a mark," and the other say, "_dewed veleg."_

They somehow managed to correct themselves, land, and begin to scramble up the wall without doing any serious damage.

Then the orcs arrived. They were held at bay for a while, but where becoming to numerous, not to mention they began to shoot at the defenders and their prime targets- the two "idiots" remaining on the wall.

They were about five feet from the top when one of their arrows finally hit their mark-Finril.

He gasped more in surprise than anything else and looked down to see and arrow just above his right hip. However for the orcs, this didn't have the desired effect-to kill him- and basically did the opposite and inspired both the (somehow) oblivious Mïren and Finril to climb faster.

Kelsil waited for an agonizing 20 seconds before they both unceremoniously dumped themselves onto the top of the wall

Seems like everything was well again (except for the part about trying to defend your home while being attacked by thousands of orcs).

* * *

[Sorry it was short, but I've been kinda busy and will be for the next week, so DOOONT think I'll be able to update everyday...sucks...really.

Dewed veleg=epic fail]


	7. Kills R Us

Kills R Us

[Wow, Im sorry it's short, but I have a bad writers block, am short on time, and well, that's it.]

* * *

Finril:

Finril gasped and looked down to see an arrow that had hit him just above his hip. He looked out towards the forest to see the growing amount of orcs behind him shooting mainly at them, but at the defenders as well.

They needed to get over the wall, and soon. Finril glanced at the oblivious Mïren and they began to climb faster.

20 agonizing (no pun intended) seconds later, they reached the top of the wall. Mïren first grabbed the lip of the wall and pulled himself over, then turned to help Finoverheat over the wall.

Mïren grabbed Finril's shoulder and yanked him over the wall, which ended in them both tumbling in a pile of arms and legs.

Finril yelped as he hit the ground/wall and only then did Mïren notice that he had been a successful target of one of the many arrows that flew in their direction.

They both stood up with Finril accepting a hand from Mïren and walked over to a more sheltered and private section of the wall.

"Please get this Valar forsaken arrow out," Finril calmly stated/ordered through gritted teeth.

"Ok!" was the too happy response from his friend.

Mïren spun Finril around and gripped the shaft with one hand and the place of entry with the other and yanked.

Finril let out a hiss of pain.

Mïren having done this before, shrugged and said, "Well, you asked for it."

* * *

Brinduíl:

Brinduíl had scaled the wall after Kelsil and had no complications in doing so. He had made it over the top and now stood at the front lines at the left edge of the wall that was being heavily defended. He had watched the others all come over and remain more or less in one piece.

The real stage of these defenses were about to be tested. He looked (way) over to his right at Thranduil who nodded.

He along with the others elves who were commanding gave the order.

"NOCK! DRAW! FIRE!" was heard across the wall of defenses as torrents of arrows were let loose and orcs dropped like crazy.

'The archers are definitely doing their job well' thought Brinduíl as said yelled the command again, drawing his bowstring back and preparing to fire.

This was repeated 20 times before the archers started yelling, "Out!" or, "I'm out" started to be heard indicating that the defenders were running out of arrows. They needed to begin to consolidate arrows and give them to the best archers.

Although they we're still early on in the battle, they had already dropped half of the orcs, but that also meant that they were running low on ammo and most of the remaining orcs would have to be killed by either sword or knife, which was much more dangerous, slow, and exhausting.

The best archers were now moving to the back of the wall in order to allow the sword/knives men/women to have the orcs who were preparing to raise their ladders to breach the wall.

Brinduíl (who wasn't one of the best archers) drew his sword and called two more volleys before giving the command to fire at will.

He watched the lethal projectiles fly and strike home bringing down ten or so orcs.

'10 down, couple thousand more to go.'

* * *

Celldan:

Celldan watched as the first group of orcs boldly approached his section of the wall in an attempt to raise their ladder. Most of them were struck down, but their places were quickly replaced by more orcs.

'Will they ever stop?' thought Celldan as he gave away his last few arrows to as he walked toward the front if the wall from where the archers were.

The bold crew of orcs had let a few others clamor onto the ladder when it was being raised.

'Quarter of the way there,

Halfway there

Three quarters of the way here,

Five more feet.'

The ladder was set in place. The orcs were here.

The orc who had rode up on top of the ladder jumped off, but was decapitated and shoved off the wall by Celldan who was holding his sword and dagger, grinning like an idiot.

Celldan sheathed his sword, but held onto his knife and went over to the ladder. He pulled off the support and with the help of one other warrior kicked/pushed the thing over, leering it fall to crush several orcs.

Another of the many other ladders were raised in its place and the process was repeated, with the exception of the orc riding on top being stabbed in the heart (shiskebabed) instead of decapitated.

* * *

Kelsil:

Kelsil was getting bored. She wasn't a really good archer by Elven standards, and quickly gave up her arrows to another of the archers, who was much more accurate.

She was currently waiting for the orcs to raise the three ladders that were going to hit her section of the wall.

A mini-volley of arrows whizzed by, over her head hitting their target dead-on.

Three stupid (or extremely cocky) orcs climbed onto the top of the ladders and were raised up to the wall.

Kelsil positioned herself directly directly in front of where the first ladder was going to hit. The ladder was almost there...stab! One more troop kill!

'That would make 34 for me, I wonder how Mïren and Finril are doing?' she thought as she lashed out with her foot kicking the ladder over before it ever had a chance to hit the wall.

Kelsil walked over to where one of the other ladders. The warriors there hadn't killed the top orc fast enough, and several more had come up and over the wall and left no cance for the elves to push the ladder down.

She saw an orc slip up behind one of the elves guard and got in a hit, cutting the elf's arm above the elbow. Kelsil picked up her pace.

The orc who had hit the elf was still alive and that made her EXTREMELY angry. She marched up to the orc and grabbed his shoulder and spun it around so that she was facing the orc.

"Gin ú-velin!" she spat, then promptly cut off his head (and it really went flying!).

* * *

Thranduil:

Thranduils section of the wall certainly wasn't boring. The orcs had figured out that if more of them rode on the ladder, then the harder it would be for the "elf-filth" to knock down the ladder that they were on.

Five were now raised on Thranduil's section of the wall and were causing a LOT of trouble. Several of the warriors had already fallen, injured, or worse.

Thranduil re-joined the fray, slashing and stabbing, killing one orc, then another, eliminating several of the attackers. With the added help, the enemy was temporarily disposed of. Thranduil went to the ladders and proceeded to kick them to knocked down.

Unfortunately, after the five were knocked down, two more were raised in their place.

This was really going to be a long day.

* * *

Tauriel:

Tauriel was perched behind the wall, shooting down orcs, and targets of opportunity. They had already killed the remaining trolls and wargs and now where using the last of their arrows to shoot the leaders (or who looked like the leaders).

Tauriel drew back her bowstring and selected a target. It was one or the orcs who was shouting at one of the others. Commands probably.

She released her bowstring and the orc dropped dead.

Three arrows left. She picked another orc who looked like he was in charge.

Aim. Fire. Dead.

Two arrows left. 'Better make these count.'

* * *

Mïren:

Mïren was positively swamped. He was frightened that the defenses wouldn't hold and was fighting orcs like a madman (madelf?). AND not to mention he was for once being concerned for Finril.

'He seems to be fine' he thought. Unfortunately, Finril, Mïren, and Legolas were tied for not showing any kind of pain and downplaying any kind of "scratch".

Mïren decapitated another orc, and went to attempt to kick yet another ladder down.

A second ladder was coming up and Mïren was determined to get more troop kills. Two orcs were now riding on top and they both fell with severe and lethal knife/sword wounds.

36. 37. This was going to be good.

The offending ladder was knocked down, but the ladders kept coming and coming. Although the elves had few casualties, they were tiring from knocking down continuously ladders. All seemed to be slightly in the elves' favor, but that changed with the sudden announcement of "They have fire-droppers!"

'Could this even get worse?' he thought.

Never ever think that. Murphy's law prevailed.

* * *

[My bloodthirsty side is itching to kill someone here feedback on who...

Wow I'm sooo soooorrry. I was going to update on Wed. But the power was out AND this chapter is EXTREMELY short.

I don't like you=Gin ú-velin]


	8. Of Fire and Trees

Of Fire and Trees

[Some language here-just sayin.]

* * *

Thranduil:

Thranduil skewered and orc and looked out to the sea of attackers. They had fire-droppers. Great. The few remaining Southrons were setting up the small ballistas and preparing to launch flaming stuff into the city. His city.

He decapitated an orc and whirled to see one that's intent was to kill or maim him and decided that that wouldn't happen. The orc was no longer going to cause any problems. Well, if you don't count the smell.

'Orc 101: Hygiene of any kind is a waste of time and it is better spent killing and torturing any all men, elves, or dwarves. Stupid dwarves. Wait-why am I even thinking about dwarves now?' Thranduil decapitated another orc.

'I wonder what Elrond would think if he saw me here-thinking about hating dwarves instead of fighting for my and my peoples' lives?' he ducked and spun to a void two of the attackers' blows. They ended up hitting each other instead and in turn, being decapitated by the Elven King that they were both trying to kill.

"Go play in a volcano!" he growled to another unsuccessful attacker.

They were now basically coming from every angle now. We're going to have to go back soon.

'YOLO. Wait- that's not true! Shut up and kill some freaking orcs already! Thranduil focus. For once.'

Thranduil picked up a scimitar that was on the ground next to him and lobbed it at an oblivious orc. He was out of throwing knives. 'Should've brought more. Like Finril.'

Another member of the offending army was running at him with his weapon raised. Thranduil spat in his face and stabbed him through the eye. Idiot.

* * *

Finril:

The orcs were beginning to overwhelm the wall. Ladders were being raised faster than they could be knocked down and the orcs were arriving fast enough for one to take another's place whenever it was killed.

Finril knew that it would soon be time. "Flash" and "Bang" were still resting in Finril and Mïren's tunics ready to be used. They soon would have to be used if they were going to survive this battle/siege.

Finril's side stung from the arrow he had been graced with earlier, although it was wrapped tight enough and he had taken some painkillers [I had an overwhelming desire to put Advil there. XD]. 'On the bright side I haven't dropped dead of blood loss and it's not really restraining any movement..."

He was fighting three orcs at once now. One of them raised its scmitar and aimed for his head.

Finril blocked the attack with his knife and struck out with his other stabbing the attacker in the heart. He kicked the first orc off and turned to another one who was charging at him with a crude sword.

The orc didn't get a chance to strike before his throat was slit. This angered the remaining orc and the new arrival. Their eyes flashed and they both came charging at Finril preparing to strike.

Finril put both of his knives to use. His left knife went over his head to block the attack of the orc who found it a good idea to try and split the elf's skull open and his right went out to his side as the other orc swung his scimitar at his already injured side.

He arced his blades and both of the offenders ended without their heads.

The orcs were coming almost too fast to keep up with and Finril prepared to face the offensive of another orc that had came up onto the wall.

It came at him fast and hard. Finril was knocked off his feet from the force of the blow, but successfully parried it.

The orc came around for another attack and hissed as the elf who he was attacking slashed across his stomach. The scream died in his throat as it was slit by Finril.

'This is getting violent now' he thought as he decapitated two orcs at once as he continued on to stab another in the back who was trying to sneak up on a "preoccupied" warrior.

However Finril missed the orc that was pretending to be dead (and would soon be due to being stabbed *almost* in the heart) and was now creeping up on him with the intent to kill.

* * *

Tauriel:

Tauriel was down to her last arrow. She had to really make it count. If she misfired or chose the wrong target someone could die.

'Shut up Tauriel. You always get like this.'

Tauriel finally selected a random orc who was riding on top of one of the few remaining ladders that were waiting to be raised.

She drew her bowstring back. Wait. What always that? She saw something out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head to see what it was that she saw.

An orc that was already was about to keel over was sneaking up behind Finril. She sighted its eye and released the arrow.

She knew then that she had done the right thing.

* * *

Finril:

Finril turned to see what was the cause of the clattering noise. An orc's scimitar fell down to the stone on the wall and the orc unceremoniously collapsed with an arrow sticking out of its eye. Only one elf used green and burgundy fletching. Tauriel.

He really would have to thank her big time if he survived this.

'Now back to killing spawns of Morgoth in exceedingly creative ways.'

* * *

Tauriel:

Tauriel slung her how over her back and looked at the other nine archers she had command over. Four still had arrows.

"Who's the best shot?" she asked.

It was either Jeanen or Quenaë. Both were still shooting.

Jeanen was the first to reply. "Quenaë. I'm still a little off."

Tauriel proceeded to give her orders. "All arrows to Quenaë. Everyone else: we're going to the wall." Tauriel then added to herself, "Celldan's going to kill me."

Tauriel drew her knives and jumped from the tree that she was sniping from. She landed gracefully on her feet and looked up to see eight others do the same, some pausing to hand off their arrows to Quenaë.

The archers regrouped and were told the battle strategy; kill everything; as they ran to the stairs at the back of the wall.

* * *

Celldan:

Celldan kicked an off off of his sword and turned to block the blow of a new threat with his small dagger and run it through with his sword.

He jumped as he heard a muffled thwack. The fire droppers were attacking.

In smaller versions of the ballista-crossbows that the scorpions had manned at the first line of defenses, the orcs and the few remaining Southrons were launching flaming bolts and branches onto the wall and beyond it into the gardens of the woodland city.

This might get complicated. Celldan watched as another flaming bolt went and struck an oak tree behind the wall. 'Thranduil is really going to be pissed-wait, what the? Valar, I'm going to kill her!'

Celldan had seen Tauriel running towards the wall with her group of archers.

The battle resumed and he was forced to abandoned that thought and go into kill-every-orc-in-a-ten-foot-radius mode.

He was soon ripping his knife out of one orc's eye, kicking one in the face, and blindly fighting and blocking another one with his sword.

Two of them dropped dead as he ran them through with his sword and another one when it's throat was slit with his knife.

The desperate defenders wouldn't hold them for long. There were just too many, especially since there was only one of the archers left shooting. They soon would have to either a: fall back to the caves, or b: kill all of these damn orcs pronto. The last option were out due to lack of ability so that left us with nothing. They would have to hold their defenses for as long as possible. They would have to stay alive as long as possible.

Another flaming bolt quizzed over Celldan's head and he heard it impact a tree behind him. Correction: they would have to hold their defenses long enough to kill a lot of orcs, but not too long so they wouldn't be stuck here between a sea of orcs and a wall of fire.

* * *

Kelsil:

Kelsil spared a second to glance in the direction of the palace and didn't like what she saw. The flaming bolts that had been launched by the orcs had caused some of the already dry trees to catch fire and was going to cause a problem if they didn't leave soon.

She dodged another orc and went into a crazed deadly dance that only she could master. Several orc parts went flying. She paused for a second to see how everyone else was doing at holding their ground.

It wasn't pretty. Many sections were already swamped with orcs and it was becoming hard to determine elf-controlled sections of the wall from the orc-controlled sections.

She engaged in another enemy and promptly killed it. She was tiring, but still holding her ground well.

A volley of bolts flew over her head and more of the trees caught fire. Make that they would have to leave very soon.

All of the orcs' ladders were now raised and the orcs were pouring over the wall. There had been no time to knock them down, and gradually they had began to become overrun.

Duck, spin, stab. Parry, slice, kick. She again fell into the rythym of killing the orcs.

Two of the warriors next to her fell and she hurried to defend them. She heard someone yell -Brinduíl-"We have to fall back!"

This was aimed at Thranduil, but there was no way that he could hear it over the noise of the battle.

"We have to fall back!" Kelsil relayed a little louder.

Thranduil glanced at her and nodded acknowledging that he heard her. She waited for a minute-silence.

* * *

Thranduil:

Thranduil heard somebody yell somthing over the battle field. Even though he had supreme Elven hearing, he couldn't make out who said what over the noise of the battle.

Somebody repeated the shout. "We have to fall back!"

It was Kelsil. Even though she didn't say it originally.

Thranduil looked around. There were so many orcs. They had to fall back. If they fell back, then they wouldn't have anywhere to go to. The trees were on fire. If they didn't fall back, then they would be trapped here instead. A minute later he replied.

"Fall back! Fall back! To the city! Fall back!"

The order was relayed several times and the first group of elves began to jump off of the back of the wall and go in a dead sprint to the caves.

* * *

Tauriel:

Tauriel's group had just gotten to the top of the wall and were now killing orcs like their lives depended on it (well, it did!).

Suddenly the order came. Fall back.

'What? I just got here! You mean to say that I just ran over here for five minutes just to fall back?'

Tauriel finished off the orc she was fighting with and turned around to the wall. 'Well I see how it is!' and she jumped.

* * *

[There we go! Anyways, I'm getting kinda blood thirsty now and so. Who shall I kill?

This I think will be the next to last or next to next to last chapter about the battle but...

Anyways thanks for reading!

Ooh, and also you need to watch "Lord of the Wands" on YouTube. Funniest. Thing. Ever.]


	9. Final Stand

Final Stand

[Next to last(?) chapter. The next one will have a: the Mirkwood elves going to Gondor to meet the fellowship for Aragorn's coronation, or b: Legolas (and possibly the Fellowship) coming home. Haven't decided yet...REVIEWS HELP ME DECIDE!

I said I would update today. It is 11:54 PM and I just am about to post this. What now!]

* * *

Tauriel:

Tauriel hit the ground and took off running. She wanted to stay, but if she had to get out of there, she was going to do it as fast as she could.

She sprinted towards the palace, but swerved as a tree erupted in fire in front of her. The others would have to leave fast. She resumed running, grabbing the hand of a dazed warrior next to her, pulling him along.

They reached the entrance to the caves just before the second group of warriors did, and jumped inside.

* * *

Thranduil:

Thranduil watched group after group of elves retreat as he held back the attackers with all of his strength. The last group was going now. 'I just have to hold out a few more seconds.'

So far he had received no major injury, but that can change in an instant. He had watched as many of his people died. So many lives ended. There were only 60 or so defenders remaining. The tide had changed yet again in favor of the orcs as soon as they had run out of arrows.

Being the only defender left on the wall, he was soon almost surrounded by orcs. He advoided being decapitated, and jumped.

Thranduil tucked and rolled, not being able to land properly after making the sloppy leap. He scrambled up, sword in hand, running against both the orcs, who were pouring over the wall, and time, getting to and behind the wall of fire that was trying to cut off his only escape.

The wall was just before him. There was an opening. He had to reach it-too late. He swore and braced himself for what was coming.

Thranduil glared at the wall of fire-and ran into it.

[*Tempted to insert another scene in here for dramatic effect*]

The heat although swift, was the definition of intense. It made breathing next to impossible, and if you opened your eyes, it would be the last thing you would ever do with them. The flames grabbed at everything and everything they caught became engulfed in them.

Then it was over. Almost. Thranduil burst through the other side of the wall of flames and to the other side. Although with hair and clothes on fire. But he was out.

Thranduil dropped and rolled across the ground, effectively extinguishing the flames.

He got up, coughed several times, and went to collect his sword that lay several feet away.

The orcs didn't dare run though the fire. He was safe...at the present time. The fire was beginning to burn itself out.

Thranduil rose and began to run to his people. They needed a leader. Tauriel sucked at that kind of thing.

-(~)-

The palace was just feet away. He had made it. Although the orcs had come through the temporary barricade they themselves had made, he was going to make it.

Thranduil pushed open the door. The remaining warriors were staring at him like he was an orc himself. There was an extremely awkward silence.

The first to speak was Kelsil, but the words weren't necessarily what the rest of them thought. "Adar! Couldn't you've come any faster! We were about to-wait you look like you've been eaten by a balrog!"

This earned a laugh from the other elves. Thranduil scowled then put on a disappointed face.

"Can't you idiots remember to brace a gate?" however, the who effect was ruined by him falling to the floor laughing (and coughing).

Many eyebrows were raised.

Although the elves had understood it was a jest, they began to frantically brace the gate. The orc were coming-and they knew a few ways to open a door.

* * *

Mïren:

The battle was now taking a turn for the absolute worst when the orcs began to use a battering ram to try to break down the doors to the caves. Suddenly he came to a realization. They hadn't used "Flash" and "Bang". However, they would have to go outside to do that.

Bang! The battering ram crashed against the door again, knocking some of the elves leaning against it back.

They might be able to win this if they just were able to launch their weapons. They couldn't throw it out of the minuscule slots the defending archers had been using. He voiced his concern to Finril who was looking around in vain for some kind of pointy projectile. Unfortunately, the archers' puny restock of arrows had already ran out.

Bang!

"I know!" he yelled back irritably.

Mïren joined the hopeless search to find something that they could defend themselves with.

"WAIT!" Finril yelled suddenly. "Leggy's balcony! Why didn't we think of this before!"

"Leggy" did in fact have one of the only rooms with a balcony, and the only one that faced the direction of which they needed to face.

Bang!

"Come on!" Mïren yelled, grabbing Finril's arm and pulling him in the direction of the walkway that led to the Prince's room.

-(~)-

Less than a minute later they faced the door that led to the only hope of the elves. Mïren reached for the handle. It was locked.

They screamed and shouted several curses. Finril lashed out at the door striking it with his foot like it was the worst thing that ever existed (multiplied by 5). Surprisingly, the door splintered and opened.

Both stared at it with awe. Remembering their mission, they ran into the room crashed over the bed (Legolas was going to murder them when he found his bed covered in soot and his door on the floor.) and out onto the small balcony.

Finril just managed to skid to a halt before he fell off onto the ground after he relized his mistake. There was no handrail.

Mïren who actually remembered and stepped out with at least some caution, signaled Finril with his hand. There were five hundred orcs standing and chanting outside the palace. Their plan would fail if they were spotted. Mïren held up his hand.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Mirkwood's pyros aimed and chunked their weapons into the army. There was a ball of flame accompanied with an immense boom. The majority of the orcs were flattened by the shockwave- along with the two assailants.

* * *

Palace Gates:

All of the elves flinched- and some even yelped- and out of instinct, dropped their weapons and covered their sensitive ears after being startled (understatement) by the sound of the blast.

Thranduil was the first to recover. He lifted his head up and smiled. Before the remaining elves could start panicking, Thranduil explained.

"That," he cocked his head in the direction of the door, "was Mïren and Finril's new toy."

* * *

Mïren and Finril:

Finril was the first to get up. He picked himself off the floor and reilized that neither he, nor Mïren were on the balcony. The blast had thrown them back into Legolas' room.

Finril then took inventory of their situation. His head hurt massively and his ear was bleeding. Mïren was on the floor against the wall in the same condition asking who's brilliant idea this was. The orcs? He would just have to see.

Mïren picked himself off of the ground, but staggered and fell against the wall. It was then that Finril realized that Mïren's leg had a long, deep, gash in it running from mid thigh to just above his ankle. 'Thats got to hurt.'

He raced over to Mïren and wrapped his arm around his waist holding him up.

"I'm fine." Mïren insisted.

Finril gave him a skeptical look, "You're obviously not."

Mïren glared at him and slapped the back of his head. Finril winced and Mïren gave him a triumphant smirk.

They walked out onto the balcony.

Their reaction? "Ho-ly shit."

* * *

Palace Gates:

As soon as the elves got over their initial shock, Thranduil ordered them to charge. Most of the elves doubted his sanity at the moment, but obeyed none-the-less.

As soon as they opened the door, they knew what he what he was doing. The sound of the blast was loud inside the insulated caves, but outside it was much, much, louder. Only a few of the orcs had picked themselves off of the ground and they were all looking around wondering what the hell happened.

The fully aware elves faced ahead taking advantage of their confusion and using it to their advantage. Although there were only about 50 elves were left and they were outnumbered six to one and exhausted, they were in far better shape then the stunned orcs.

They all were encouraged and rushed forward with their king, killing every orc that rose in their path (and some that didn't quite make it around to rising). The only hiccup was when they were down to the last hundred or so orcs. Those last ones were furthest away from the explosion, and were positively furious.

They began to counterattack.

* * *

Brinduíl:

Brinduíl charged at the orcs swinging his sword in arcs, thrusts, and blocks. This was becoming too ordinary. 'Why is this fun anyways? It didn't use to be. Finril. I will kill him. It's all his fault.'

The orcs were harder to kill then before, but he was fueled by adrenaline, vengeance, and a little bit of stupidity. They broke like water on rock.

* * *

Kelsil:

Kelsil was lapsing back into overkill mode. The orcs around her were dying on her swanky blades in many different and creative ways.

'How many ways can you kill an orc?' she pondered as she took up a piece of "discarded" armor and lobbed it at an orc's head. The orc reached up to catch it and was gutted by the elf he never even saw coming.

Another fell after having its neck broken by a roundhouse kick and another because a smiley face was carved on its chest...with stab marks for eyes. 'Twenty seven ways to kill them. Not bad. Only three orcs per option.'

* * *

Celldan and Tauriel:

Celldan and Tauriel were killing side by side. Bodies went flying in every direction and no orc within 10 feet stayed alive for more than 15 seconds.

That was efficient. They found them selves smiling. Suddenly Celldan started humming.

'What the? Is that a drinking song?' Tauriel thought to her self.

She suddenly found that she had joined in-singing. Being the second worst elf at singing-next to the one and only Kelsil- this was the first time many had heard her sing. It was fun.

* * *

Thranduil:

Thranduil, who was already surrounded by orcs- dead ones- heard the terrible melody of an elf singing- a drinking song? He smiled. It was time. He raised his voice with the terrible one that was already singing.

Another voice joined in next to him. What. The. Heck. The elf next to him was his too-serious advisor who sucked at anything that involved combat: Trénal.

He was holding a long knife in his left hand and throwing daggers with alarming accuracy with his right.

He smiled.

There was only a few orcs left that needed to be disposed of.

He and his longtime friends (and family) rushed towards them, weapons raised. A few seconds later-

The battle had been won.

* * *

[Thanks for reading! This will now be listed as complete, but IF I GET SOME REVIEWS REGARDING THE EPILOGUE, I will either update late on Friday or early Saturday later this week. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, then read the authors note at the top. Also: who won the orc killing game? What will the losers' punishment be?

I have another story (see profile) in progress, but will not be updating as much. Anyways questions? Comments? Rude remarks? PM me!

~~Also thank you so much my faithful readers!~~

-Vassi]


	10. Of Language Barriers and Reunions

Of Language Barriers and Reunions

[Ok. So, this is the last chapter and well, no further explanation needed. Anyways, I've decided to rewrite this one twice and I've decided it to be set in Mirkwood with like half of the Fellowship.

So on another note, I have two possible stories that I will do, which summaries and such will be at the very end. Review to tell me which is better! (Or if you have any request of other good things to write!)]

FYI IN THIS CHAPTER, ELVISH IS IN ITALICS!

* * *

Northern ERYN LASGALEN:

Legolas looked around with a look off awe on his face. He had only seen his home like this once before, and that was when he was a VERY small elfling.

He and most of the Fellowship was returning home after Aragorn's coronation and wedding. He was traveling on Arod with the ever-present Gimli behind him and Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and Sam traveling behind them on their ponies. Aragorn reluctantly had stayed in Gondor with Arwen, but was planning to head to Rivendell in a few weeks time, and Gandalf was, well Valar only knows where, attending "important wizard business".

"LEGOLAS!"

Legolas realized that somebody was calling his name and by the sound of it, they had been doing it for a while.

He turned around to see Merry and Pippin shouting at him and something about food.

"What?" he asked.

"Can. We. Stop. For. Food!" they asked/demanded simultaneously, stressing each word.

"Breifly. We are near the old borders and we'll be there in about two hours," he replied not exactly knowing where the borders currently were with the constant shifting due to Dul Guldor.

His home and Lothlorien had been attacked by Dul Guldor, and had come out victorious, but the victory had a cost. Many elves had died and the southern parts of the realm had been burned and some parts destroyed. Lothlorien had led a march with what small numbers were left of the Mirkwood guard to Dul Guldor and Galadriel, with the help of Nenya, destroyed Dul Guldor itself.

They party came to a clearing that would allow for them to have a good resting place.

"There is small stream not far from here. Although we're not far from the city, we should refill our water," Legolas announced and went to collect the empty water skins from the hobbits and his dwarf. "Also, stay on the path. I don't know of there are any patrols and don't want you to get shot. I'm not sure if there are any spiders or orcs remaining, so don't do anything stupid." Legolas purposefully looked at Merry and Pippin as he said the last part.

"Are you sure that YOU will be safe?" Gimli asked with raised eyebrows.

He was met with an "Why-The-Heck-Did-You-Even-Ask-That?" look form the elf.

'Of course, you grew up here.' Gimli though with a snort as Legolas walked out into the woods.

He got up to go over to the hobbits in an attempt to get some food for himself. He was rewarded with an apple from the (rather large) pack of Pippin (no doubt stuffed with food he was hoarding).

Halfway through his apple, Pippin suddenly asked, "What do you think these elves are like? I mean the elves in Rivendell and Lorien were nice and stuff, but do you think that these ones will be any different? I mean, from what I've heard, Legolas' father was well, um..."

"I'm sure they will be nice, but I'm really not sure about the King," Merry replied trying to comfort Pippin.

"I'm sure that Legolas' father is fine," Frodo said with a smile.

A minute later, Merry suddenly dropped his half eaten apple. "Pip, did ya hear that?" he questioned looking out into the woods.

As a response, Pippin's had went immediately to his swords hilt. The others followed example and drew their swords and Gimli's hand gripped his axe and he stood up. The sound didn't repeat itself and the company was left staring intently into the woods, which now seemed 10 times more ominous than a minute before.

Suddenly two forms dropped down from the trees in front of them. All of the company's eyes went as large as saucers.

"RUN!" shouted Gimli hefting his axe.

The hobbits all turned in the other direction and began to run, but stopped dead in their tracks, facing a third figure.

"NAZGÛL!" one of them shouted.

They whirled around in the other direction and then it hit them. The figures were elves.

The "nazgûl" brought up a knife and flipped the hood off revealing a female elf who looked very much like she would enjoy killing them.

The dwarf and hobbits lowered their weapons and faced the elves. One of the two others (who didn't look like they were about to eat the remaining Fellowship,) asked them something in elvish.

"What?" Pippin asked.

The elf repeated the phrase.

"Can you speak common?" asked Frodo trying to be diplomatic. He knew some elvish, but he couldn't discern anything either because they were speaking too fast or because it was a different dialect.

The elf was clearly becoming annoyed and repeated the phrase again slowly.

'Must be a different dialect' Frodo mused.

Pippin tried using gestures to get his point across, but it only confirmed that the elves didn't know common.

The elf standing next to the first one attempted to communicate with the strangers, but also failed. The third figure, the nazgûl elf, finally gave up and pointed at them, yelled something in elvish, and pointed in the direction that they came from.

Despite Legolas' warnings, Gimli started talking (yelling) at the elves.

"You just can't kick us out like this! You don't even know why we're here! Let us find Legolas, he can explain!"

Obviously gauging by the elves' reaction, he had said the wrong thing. The elves drew their weapons and gave them a pretty good death glare. The only thing they had understood was their Princes' name and that a dwarf was yelling it while waving an axe around.

A fourth elf dropped down from the trees (presumably alerted from the yelling) and was holding a bow threateningly at them.

This soon turned into a full blown arguing match, each side trying to get the other side to understand what they were saying.

"SHUT! UP!" another voice suddenly yelled.

All of the arguers stopped and turned to see Legolas standing at the side of the clearing, looking a little annoyed.

Suddenly the elf dressed in black yelled something along the line of "Leggy!" and launched herself at Legolas tackling him.

The strange elf and Legolas hugged each other then scrambled up off of the ground.

"Is that his wife?" asked Sam. "He never mentioned anything about having a lover."

The elf who tackled Legolas then proceeded to smack him across the face and yell at him. Gimli recognized a few dwarvish curses and smiled.

After seeing that Merry remarked, "Definitely a wife."

The elf Legolas was arguing with finally seemed to give up and Legolas turned and greeted the others enthusiastically and embraced them. They all clearly knew each other.

Legolas then turned back to the remaining Fellowship. First he pointed to the elf in black, then the brown haired one who tried first to speak with them, then the blonde one who was standing next to him, and lastly the other female elf who was still holding her bow.

"That unfortunately is my sister, Kelsil, my friend Finril, Celldan, and Marchwarden Tauriel. As you have now realized, they don't speak common."

Finril accusingly looked at Kelsil. "I knew we should have let Mïren come! Didn't he pay some attention in language lessons?"

Legolas then turned and spoke for a couple minutes to the patrol of elves. "Oh- and these are some of my companions that I was 'gallivanting across Middle Earth like a madman with,' Merry, Pippin, Gimli my FRIEND, and the Ringbearer, Frodo."

At the last part, the elves proceeded to bow.

A minute later, Frodo realized that the elves were actually bowing to him. "Uh, um, you can get up now." He said awkwardly.

Legolas translated for the Elves and they stood up.

"We should get going now," Legolas announced to the Fellowship.

The patrol watched as the strange company packed up their bags and untied their mounts.

Finril suddenly smiled and yelled at Legolas, "Hey Leggy, this is a record!"

"For what?" he replied in a questioning tone, mounting Arod.

"This is the longest time you and Estel "adventuring" and came back without needing stitches!"

Legolas blushed and the other elves fell over laughing.

"Um, let's go," Legolas said trying to at least keep some dignity.

* * *

As the Fellowship and the ragtag patrol of elves came around a small hill, Legolas saw what extent the destruction of this home was. The almost all of the trees in front of the city's gate were burnt and blackened and the earth still charred.

He was saddened by the loss of life that had taken place there, but it was forgotten as they came upon the palace gate. All of the newcomers gasped in amazement. As they went through the gates, they looked around in wonder.

The gardens were beautiful, although some of the trees here were a little crispy. The few elves who were outside stopped what they were doing and looked at the company in amazement.

When they reached the palace gates, they were again awestruck at their beauty. Even Gimli had to admit that he was impressed by the underground palace.

Both parties were suddenly were alerted by the sound of two elves screaming in elvish.

"You need to put your robes on! You look like a complete idiot! Just because nobody can see you is no excuse not to wear your robes!"

"No! At the current point and time I believe I can do what I want to AND go swimming AND not where my robes!"

"Are you freaking serious! Even though we have no more threats to our home, and we've relaxed basically all policies doesn't mean you can do this!"

"Well what I wear is not your problem!

"It is!"

"Is not!"

The two elves suddenly came into view. One was wearing just boots and a pair of green leggings and was being chased by another who was wearing dark brown robes and holding a heavy looking book in a less than welcoming manner.

The first one stopped when he caught sight of the people on the stairs and his jaw dropped. The second barley stopped in time to avoid running into the first, and dropped the book as he saw the company.

"Adar?" Legolas finally asked softly.

"Legolas?" the elf wearing leggings, Thranduil, responded.

They ran to each other and embraced.

"Adar, why are you wearing leggings?" Legolas asked as they finally let go of each other.

Thranduil just smiled.

The Prince had returned.

* * *

[Did you like? It took forever to write this and even longer to edit it. But anyways, I like how it ended.

Below are the proposed stories and if you have a better idea just tell me!

-Vassi]

* * *

**Proposed Project:** Of Elflings and Elf Lords

**Summary: **One-shot snapshots of the adventures and misadventures of certain elflings and elf lords. Set in Imladris.

**Features:**

**Elflings: **Elladan, Elrohir, Legolas, Kelsil, Haldir, Orophin, and Rúmil.

**Elf Lords: **Elrond, Erestor, Glorfindel, Thranduil, Trénal, Celeborn, Galadriel

**Proposed Project: **Danger Follows (needs a better title)

**Summary: **Elrond is alerted of a cunning group of orcs near Imladris. He along with Glorfindel and Erestor, decide to find out whats driving them. They find the information, but that doesn't do any good if they're dead.

**Features: **Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor

**VOTE NOW!**


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